It has been far too long; sorry about that. Life has been life. I wanted to share a section of chapter 2 Out of Charge (following story to overcurrent)
Eddie & Volt flashback post story, pre-realization. (spoilers)
Eddie stared at the bulbs over the bar. The warm amber glow reflecting in his now, lively steel eyes bringing out the copper of his pupils. Moments passed peacefully in the aftermath of closing hour; that strange near silence which takes a while to settle in after the loud, chaotic buzz of crowds and activity.
He breathed deeply, allowing his chest to fill, then breathed out, unable to remember the last time he felt he could just exist like this without immediate pressure or action. The lights shone, absent of the predictable dimming or flickering that accompanied the burning seizures in his chest. They just… worked.
Without thought or permission the corner of Eddie’s lips lifted into a smile, while a huff of air somewhat resembling a laugh escaped him. It was nice. Simple. It worked. The lights worked without fuss, or worry, or threat. And Eddie could just stand there, doing nothing, beneath them.
There was work to do, of course. There was always work to be done. Being the power source for the whole house meant an unending list of tasks and needs and demands. But he felt steady now. Stable. Eddie felt like he could handle it, although this renewed access to a work-life balance and having people to count on was taking time to settle in. He didn’t fully trust any of it yet, and the difficulty of challenging old traumas and learned habits had his brow furrow.
The light grew brighter, energy flowing stronger at the approach of the only other person in the club. Eddie could feel Volts smile more than see it and felt the assessing gaze sweep over him.
“You look almost serene,” Volt commented, his hand reaching in to press one, long finger at the dent in Eddie’s forehead. “If not for this.”
“Hey! Cut it out.” The reprimand fell short of any true strength or rebuttal, even to Eddie’s own ears. He lifted a hand to rub the point of contact, where a static shock had charged through him.
Volt chuckled, and in their circuits both could feel energy flow more freely through and around them. Livewire had taken to unplugging unused appliances during the night to save on electric output. The habit reduced the never-ending task list for a few hours while also giving those appliances a fuller night of sleep themselves.
“Are you thinking of her?”
Volt’s perception caught Eddie off guard. The man stalled and stammered in the way that told he was deciding how much to say and how open to be.
“Not specifically,” he eventually told. “I was, thinking about everything. How none of it feels real yet.”
“You’re overthinking things Eddie.”
“I guess… maybe? I d’no.. this… this just feels like something I need to think about. To process it.”
Volt remained silent, eyes gliding over him again with a faint concern.
“I keep expecting to wake up and find everything like it used to be. With just the two of us, struggling to keep it together until things either worked out or-“
A long, dark pause lingered at the end of the ‘or’.
“-or it didn’t,” Eddie finished the sentence, needing to hear it spoken out loud for himself. That dark outcome he’d fought so hard against for years, all while trying to ignore it.
“You won’t,” Volt stated firmly. “The wire is fixed, the system reset. We don’t have to worry about breaks or power drains anymore; live wire saw to that. Just sit back, relax, and leave all the front of house details to me.”
Not for the first time Eddie wondered if he’d sent all of his optimism Volt’s side during the split, or if Volt was just particularly talented in promoting the positive charges. Either way, his words reminded him of something else that had played on his mind. The one break in character he’d seen in his partner which had shocked him at the time, even with Volt’s reasoning.
“What made you so sure of her?”
“Hm?”
“You’ve always been protective of the club. Of what we do here,” ‘of me.’ “What made you tell her to reset the system? You could have-..”
Even now, with the worst moment over, and the best outcome achieved, the core deep fear of Volt going out and being lost still had the power to choke the air in Eddie’s lungs and dench him in a cold sweat.
“Desperation.” Volt’s voice hardened in his seriousness. His eyes locked with Eddie’s the moment his steel gaze had lifted, and the airy light trill of Volt’s words deepened into the straightforward, no-nonsense tone of a deep conversation.
“I wasn’t sure, I was desperate, because I was about to lose you too Eddie.”
“I-I … uh..”
“My entire purpose for being, is to protect you. But in that moment, for the first time, I was powerless. And she- she has been the only person to really invest in you, or myself, or the club. So I took the chance.”
Desperate pounding of a startled heart, and the weak, drained sensation of a sickly body greeted Volt as he awoke. He felt dizzy and pained, and it took him longer than it should have for his mind to correctly place him. The room he was in was not the Breaker Box, but the neat luxurious apartment of two wealthy real estate owners. Weights pressed down against his lap and shoulder, which, with further inspection, turned out to be Eddie and Livewire laying across and against him.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Indulgent sick fic, vaguely following Overcurrent. Volt used up too much energy and isn’t giving himself the needed time to recharge. Eddie needs to be firm about him taking time out of work and calls on their Live Wire (f) to help.
Spoiler Warnings for end of game/post realization. Whump fluff with Eddie, Volt & Live Wire dynamic explored. Life really got in the way of editing and posting this one. The intention is to have at least two chapters with the second focusing on Eddie and Live Wire helping Volt get back on his feet.
Indulgent sick fic, vaguely following Overcurrent. Volt used up too much energy and isn’t giving himself the needed time to recharge. Eddie needs to be firm about him taking time out of work and calls on their Live Wire (f) to help.
Spoiler Warnings for end of game/post realization. Whump fluff with Eddie, Volt & Live Wire dynamic explored.
Life really got in the way of editing and posting this one. The intention is to have at least two chapters with the second focusing on Eddie and Live Wire helping Volt get back on his feet.
if objects had a birthday eddie’s would definitely be late december to early january. he has such capricorn energy.
- hardworking to a fault? check.
- loyal? check.
- grounded? check.
- financially stable/literate? check.
- practical? check.
- strong willed/stubborn? check.
i could go on. i’m still thinking what actual date it would be but i’m leaning towards the dec 28-jan 5 days ngl
he wouldn’t care that his birthday is in between holidays, it’s just another day for him, but and livewire spend the week from christmas to new years celebrating eddie
he feels awkward about it at first, and he never truly settles into being praised so much, it just reminds him that he doesn’t feel worthy of his partners, but he appreciates it regardless and it makes him feel loved and cherished
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Volt who can flirt, and flatter. Every line is rehearsed, though. Every compliment, or well-timed smile, or the lingering touches? It’s scripted. Maybe it’s part of the mask, or maybe he’s just been doing it so long that it feels like second nature.
When he’s with you, though…he doesn’t feel the need to mask, or add that extra flair. Volt can be his true self with you—he can laugh, and grin unashamedly, and be who he is. With you, he doesn’t have to pretend.
to anyone else, he’s grumpy and standoffish. but with you?
it’s a complete turnaround from how he usually acts. he’ll save a seat for you at the bar and spend hours talking, a rare smile on his face. he’ll come out of his shell, telling you about his day. volt enjoys it when you come around, because he likes seeing eddie happy :]
Volt’s love is a loud thing. It is found in nights spent dancing, laughing unabashedly, kissing like the world will end tomorrow. He shouts his love to the rooftops whenever he has the chance. But you and Eddie make him see that there is love in the quiet, as well.
When Volt wakes up, he can feel a weight on the other side of the bed and hear two sets of steady breathing. ‘Good,’ he thinks. ‘They did eventually settle in for the night.’ You and Eddie had insisted you were almost done on a big maintenance project.
(“We’ll meet you upstairs when we’re finished,” you had said, voice honeyed. When Volt looked at Eddie for confirmation, the man had grunted and avoided eye contact. Typical Eddie; that meant there was actually no timetable for when the repairs would be done. Looking back to you, Volt was met with your irresistible puppy dog eyes. He sighed.)
And thus, he had fallen asleep alone last night. But now, it's morning. And here you both are. His darlings. The loves of his life.
You’re both still asleep. Eddie is laying on his back. You’re on your side, snuggled up into the crook of his left arm, which is wrapped loosely around you. Your cheek rests on his chest. Eddie’s head is tilted ever so slightly toward you, his lips almost touching your forehead but not quite. His breath rustles your hair with every inhale and exhale. Volt smiles to himself. Eddie must have kissed your forehead before drifting off.
Another realization hits Volt in that moment, too. One that has him turning on his side to fully admire his lovers. You two must have been so awfully careful last night to keep from waking him. Contrary to what their personalities would have many believe, Volt is actually the light sleeper between the two. Eddie, once he’s out, sleeps like a rock. But Volt can be shaken from slumber somewhat easily. (“It’s likely because I don’t work myself to exhaustion seven days a week,” is what he says about it when asked.) Somehow, the two of you had managed to get all the way upstairs, stripped and redressed yourselves in your bedclothes, clambered into bed, and made yourselves comfortable, all without waking him up. To be able to pull that off required effort. And realizing that the two of you had gone through that effort…you two truly are the best thing that has ever happened to him. He could picture it in his head now: the way you had probably been trying not to giggle while entering the room, stumbling in the dark and trying to change into pajamas without being able to see much of anything. All the while, Eddie was surely shushing you and holding back a chuckle or two himself.
Volt’s daydreaming is disrupted by the sound of a soft groan. It is one he recognizes very well; the kind Eddie lets out every morning when he wakes up.
“Dare I ask what time the two of you finally went to sleep?” Volt teases, his tone giving away the underlying real question of ‘How late did you two needlessly stay up?’ Eddie groans again, but it dissolves into a light chuckle. His left hand does not move from its position on your hip. Instead, he lifts his right hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes.
“Not as late as you’re thinking,” he mumbles, voice husky with sleep. “We called it quits around one.” Eddie’s voice appears to wake you – you let out a groan of your own.
“G’morning. What time is it?” You ask softly, your voice muffled slightly due to your cheek being mushed against your boyfriend’s chest. Both you and Eddie look to Volt for an answer. His breath is momentarily stolen from him. Oh, he thinks. So this is quiet love.
When he can speak again, Volt lets you both know it’s just after eight o’clock. Eddie decides that that’s enough sleeping in for him. He sits up, not without protests from both you and Volt. Rolling his eyes, he gives each of you a kiss on the forehead.
“Relax. I’m just making us breakfast. I’ll get you both when it’s done.” As soon as Eddie has left the bed, you immediately roll over to Volt’s side. He chuckles as you settle yourself. His hand rests on your hipbone. He traces circles on your skin with his thumb. Yes, he thinks. This is quiet love.
Volt’s love is a loud thing. He dances late into the night, laughs unabashedly, and kisses like the world will end tomorrow. But you and Eddie show him that sometimes, love is the smell of breakfast in the morning. Sometimes, love is the sound of a sleep-addled whisper. Sometimes, love is in the quiet.
✩ Volt, who assumes people only like him for his charming and flirtatious nature, so he’s hesitant to get into serious relationships.
✩ Livewire, who assumes people only like them for their kindness and willingness to help, so doesn’t believe anyone would want a serious relationship with them beyond what they can do for others.
✩ Eddie, who’s safe and real and true, to allow them both to let their walls down and believe there’s more to them than surface level.
I am so excited to have these works in my collection ^w^ A lovely artist to work with, I can highly recommend them. It was a pleasant experience from start to finish and their work is stunning!
Thank you again
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Volt wins a bet set by Live Wire(f) during a radio interview. He thinks his prize to be rather 'inspirational'.
Short snippet of an idea. Suggestive nswf without anything explicit. Playful intimacy.
The radio broadcast was a lot more fun than Live wire had feared. Teddy had given them a pep talk early on and given them a tour of the studio so she’d better understand what she was going to be doing. A few questions, a bit of music and enjoyable banter with the radio hosts.
Naturally the topic of her high-flying partners came up.
“The two are opposite sides of the same coin,” she replied to one of the comments put to her.
“How is it being with two opposites? I mean, we don’t get to see much of Eddie, but Volt seems like an absolute angel.”
Live wire laughed. “You’d think that wouldn’t you. Eddie is the Sweetheart, not soft, but an absolute Gem. Volt is a complete menace. Total gremlin.”
“Ohoh? Give us more, what’s the scoop?”
“Well, recent example, we went out and I swore no cocktails. Same evening, we’re not only at a cocktail bar but he’s somehow managed to wrangle it that ‘I’ was the one to suggest it.”
Laughter and banter fill the airways as the hosts ask for details.
“But you can see for yourselves. I believe you have Volt on your show soon too?”
“Yes! We do, we hope everyone will tune in live come Thirstday’s Grapevine show.”
“Well then, how about this; I’m going to give your producers and Volt a list of words. Challenge is that you won’t know what those words are, but Volt needs to have you say them during the show.”
A challenge she didn’t go easy on him with either. But, he’d be well rewarded. If he managed to get all 4 words, he’d get a prize of her choosing. If he managed to get all 4 plus a bonus phrase, he’d get to choose his own prize. Nothing was off limits. Her own rules. And Volt was eager to rise to the challenge.
She had listened to the show, naturally, so wasn’t at all surprised to hear the bathroom door open as she finished her evening shower. She could see the smug look on his face before she’d even turned around. In fact, she turned her back to him, moving her hands along her hidden parts just to tease him.
“Whatever brings you here?”
His voice rumbled with a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m just contemplating my prize live wire. I wanted to watch for a little while, for a spark of inspiration.”
“Is that all? To watch, but not touch? To gaze upon a muse?” she teased, intentionally taking his flirtations literally over suggestion.
She turned her head, and her upper body, just so that he could see the wet shape of her outline more. And watched his face, the look there moving from hunger to… Well. Still hunger, but the light in his eyes suddenly suggested she was no longer in control of this little game.
“A muse you are Live Wire. I think… I rather enjoy this suggestion.” The purr to his words filled her with an excited dread. Loving and hating his ability to move and shift energy seemingly at will. “Serve as my inspiration for a day. Twenty-four hours, beginning now, in which I can command, and watch, any task I like. No touching you.”
“No touching me…” she repeated knowing there was more to this.
“Eddie,” he sang, drawing their dark haired ‘sweetheart’ to joining them.
“Hmm?” he hummed, as though he’d not overheard everything from the start.
“Why don’t you and I entertain ourselves tonight? I’d like to ‘watch’ my muses’ reactions.”
“Watch, but don’t touch right?” Eddie smiled, seeing her eyes widen in dawning realization.
Twenty-Four hours, in which Volt could command her to do, witness, or sense anything he wanted. But she would not be touched.
“Oh, you evil bastard.”
“Ah ah! I believe the term you used was ‘menace’.”
Truly stunning art work and a pleasure to work with. I can highly recommend this artist for a follow and commission interest.
Thank you for bringing this portion of the story to life. Both fierce and tender, Volt's lives to protect.
And au after nimonas sacrifice, ballister points his sword at ambrosius face, as revenge for ambrosius doing the same thing, then ballister walks away angry and grieving, ambrosius is speechless.
I genuinely just hate ambrosius and think ballister should've never forgave him, or at least so easily
I’ve honestly been waiting forever to talk about this. It might get a bit long because I really enjoy writing about it, and I’m super excited!
so let’s dive in!
When I first watched Nimona, I hated him too. But after rewatching it multiple times and analyzing Ambrosius’s character, I’ve come to believe that he deserves love just as much as Nimona and Ballister.
1. The arm incident.
The number one reason people despise him is because he cut off his boyfriend’s arm. But that entire moment was over in less than three seconds. He didn’t even do it intentionally. It wasn’t a choice, it was muscle memory from years of conditioning. He didn’t even look Ballister in the eye when it happened. (And let’s not forget even Ballister himself never held a grudge against him for this.) Ambrosius, meanwhile, carried the guilt and self-blame heavily afterwards.
2. Ordering Ballister’s arrest.
This is the other big moment that gets him hate. But if you think about it carefully what else could he have done? Some people say, “Why didn’t he trust his boyfriend?” But honestly, Ambrosius had almost no time to make a decision and was under incredible pressure. At that moment, he was at the height of his authority the golden descendant of Gloreth, head of the knights. Arresting Ballister could have been his way of keeping him close and safe, buying them time to talk and sort things out together.
Because what if he had openly chosen Ballister’s side right then? That would’ve been two men and one teenage girl against an army of thousands. At best, they’d be captured together at worst, they’d be branded as criminals, stripped of power, credibility, and safety. And realistically Ambrosius had no idea how to live outside the Institution. His whole life was inside it.
3. The nacho date.
Ambrosius said what he said about Nimona at that point because he didn’t know her at all. What he did know was that the man he loved wasn’t a murderer, and all he wanted was to have Ballister back like before. He threatened to kill Nimona, but when the moment actually came, he didn’t order his knights to attack her. He didn’t even try to kill her, despite his training. Instead, he turned his attention to evacuating civilians. He began questioning what it even meant to be a knight, especially when the Director ordered the cannons to fire on the city. That was the turning point: for him, knighthood became about protecting people, not about slaughtering “monsters.”
Ambrosius as a character.
This is what fascinates me the most. He was born at the very top: wealthy, noble family, a destiny written for him. He could’ve easily turned into someone arrogant, like Todd or the other knights in their class. But instead, he was different. He accepted and loved Ballister.
His love language is all over the beginning of the movie encouraging Ballister, whispering sweet words to make him believe in himself, trying to throw hands with Todd for insulting him, cheering the loudest when Ballister was knighted. He was so proud of his boyfriend. And then at the very end, he literally climbed down a wall while injured just to take care of Ballister, because he knew he was hurting.
That’s who Ambrosius really is: kind, warm, a devoted boyfriend and a loyal friend. He deserves love just as much as Ballister does. Unfortunately, the movie’s limited runtime didn’t give us nearly enough of his perspective, so a lot of people miss this side of him.
“Ballister forgave him too fast.”
This is the most common comment I’ve seen in three years of making Goldenheart fanart and TikToks. Honestly, at first, I thought so too. But! If you look closely at the ending, it’s clear that time has passed.
The vehicles leaving the wall, the missing Gloreth statue, the wall being turned into a park and marketplace all of that shows weeks or months went by. (I think a lot of people didn’t notice because Ambrosius and Ballister were still wearing the same clothes, lol. One of my only regrets about this movie is the low budget!)
So in that time, they probably reconciled. Maybe they went to therapy. Maybe they rebuilt their relationship step by step. And by the time we see that forehead-touch at the very end, their love and trust had fully returned. The animator who worked on that scene even said they wanted to show complete love and trust between them.
Honestly, as someone who's always loved Ambrosius, it's so weird to me to hear about the people who genuinely hate him because, like... look at him. He's a sweetie.
Not even kidding. When compared to a roster of other noble cadets like Todd, Ambrosius maintains a good, solid, moral foundation. He's genuinely a kind man at heart who's being put into a terrible situation. (Nimona's rampage aside, the dude literally stopped mid-manhunt becasue civilians were asking for his autograph. And he wasn't doing it in a vain or egotistical way, he's actually pretty hesitant about it. But does it anyway because he's a nice guy.)
Yes, we as the audience know that Ballister didn't commit the crime. But, in canon, there wasn't any evidence pointing at the Director (that wasn't already in the her possession) except the Squire's footage. Literally just ONE clip on one man's phone. Everything else so plainly pointed to Ballister, instead. (Gee, it's like he was deliberately set up and framed so that he'd completely take the fall for that crime. Weird.)
"But Ambrosius should have listened! He was his boyfriend, he should've known better!"
Except that's a ludicrous thing to expect from a normal person, much less someone with Ambrosius' expectations. He's arguably THE living symbol of kingdom. A figure that literally the entire population looks up to. The descendant of their HERO. Someone who's likely been steeped in "you must be the golden child" rhetoric since the day he was born. You can't possibly expect him to magically be okay with dropping that on the off-chance that his boyfriend, who by all accounts looks guilty, actually didn't commit regicide. (Also there are plenty of irl instances where "standing by your man" isn't healthy or even morally correct, but w/e.)
He's also had the Director looming over his shoulder the entire time. Literally being a "miscreant whispering in his ear" while accusing Nimona of being that. We see how she uses language to manipulate people. She's doing the same to Ambrosius.
The Antlered Serpent scene? Only comes about because she brought him evidence that, from his perspective + her manipulation, led him to believe that Ballister was in danger and being used. Was he wrong about Nimona? In the end, yes. But, again, there was no evidence stating otherwise. Ambrosius does not get the privilege of getting to follow his gut, he also has to think about his role as a Goldenloin.
ALSO-!
GUESS WHO REALIZED HE WAS WRONG!
Despite the manipulation, despite his deep conditioning and societal expectations, despite having no one (Nimona) to blatantly tell him "HEY, EVERYTHING YOU AND YOUR FAMILY STANDS FOR IS MESSED UP" he's questioning things on his own. This scene?
Literally happens after we watch Ballister struggle to confront the idea that The Director is the result of a problematic society, and not the other way around. Ballister literally justifies Ambrosius' actions as "What we were trained to do" and doesn't even see the arm chopping as a bad thing. DESPITE having Nimona constantly hitting him over the head with "The kingdom sucks! The Institute's corrupt! We need to disrupt the system!" Over and over.
And yet Ambrosius comes to those conclusions ON HIS OWN with literally no discussion between him and Ballister/Nimona AND while getting fed guilt and lies from the Director. It's very telling that he says the same thing Nimona does ("Arm chopping is not a love language") Despite never once holding a conversation with her.
Also, the fact that, after Bal and Nims go to get a confession from the Director, Ambrosius was about to confront her about what'd happened earlier! No, in the moment he didn't take Ballister's side. But he was literally questioning her word after the dust settled and he finally had time and space to think! Also the fact that, if he'd gotten there before Bal and Nims, HE LITERALLY WOULD'VE BEEN STABBED AND KILLED FOR TRYING TO FIND THE TRUTH ON HIS OWN! And the moment he sees that the Director had Bal's sword? HE'S GATHERING KNIGHTS TO ARREST HER! No, he's not by Bal's side. But the moment he has proof that Ballister didn't do it, he's moving in Ballister's best interests. If the Director didn't have that scroll, she would have been in custody. Ballister's innocence would've been proved. He would've literally saved Bal. Like, what else could he realistically be expected to do?!
I'm gonna stop here, it's late and I feel like I've just swerved into rambling territory (I don't even know if half of this shit makes sense,) but needless to say I agree. Ambrosius is very plainly a good guy. But his character is complicated and so is the situation he's been put in.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
AO3 link for Softened Rumbles.
Eddie finds Livewire hidden away in one of his renovation sites. He offers comfort and emotional support, reminded about his own pains, struggles and journey for healing in the process. Mentions of Eddie's therapy experience and gentle suggestions for Livewire's to start.
Hurt/Comfort, emotional support fic in which Eddie comforts Livewire(f) and reflects upon some of his own struggles and healing journeys. (will upload to AO3 after edits)
Cut for length (2.7K words)
Thunder rolled low over the city, presenting an ominous backdrop to the sound of plastic sheeting, covering various windows, billowing in the wind. The radio fought for voice through the fizzing static in the growing storm, and there, hidden away in a wall nook, balled up tighter than a spool of industrial wire, was the one he sought.
Her hair was sodden, clinging to her face and shoulders which curled around her knees. Her feet where bare and muddy, hued with a stain of red which suggested she probably stood on something along the way.
“Hey,” Eddie greeted, overly conscious of his voice filling the silence. “Are you alright?”
Masking was her immediate reaction, glazed eyes shifting to the present yet unable to join the smile painted upon her lips. She tried to laugh, the sound coming out raw and frayed, reminding him of copper threads faltered and tearing within. She mumbled through some scripted and overused line, his ears hearing the unspoken whimpers behind each chosen syllable.
“I’m fine. Just, not very good company right now.” – ‘I’m not fine. Go. Spare yourself the trouble.’
Shards of memory cut through the charade, giving Eddie a glimpse of a reflection. No one stayed. No one was ever interested in the work, or the maintenance. The power, the energy, the show – everyone was eager to take. But when his knees began to buckle and his own needs were to be met, his fingers reached out into a vast and empty coldness. Alone. He had needed to struggle alone, and the sight of her taking that same path broke something in him.
The fear from earlier softened into something else. The energy from his frantic search across the city lulling into a relatable grief which settled across his face and deep within his eyes.
Thunder rumbled, with the sound of rain skittering across the damaged roof tiles and the wind whistling into a warning howl. She tried to huddle tighter into herself, back pressed as deeply into the nook as she could retreat.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
Her response was a meek shaking of her head, to which Eddie sighed; his breath licking at the air where the sound ended. His wet footsteps thumped softly across the drafty building site, where he collected one of the halogen lamps, inspected it briefly, then set it up facing the nook before turning it on. 400 watts of heat would be their defence against the incoming storms, and with its light he could see the stains along her cheeks, marking down from reddened eyes.
“Alright. We’ll rest here until you’re ready.”
She looked towards him, likely feeling the icy pinch at her toes now that some heat was upon them, and he moved towards her, removing his jacket to drape over her trembling shoulders. Again, he sensed the unspoken questions like echoes of his own soul. Much like her own, in a time that felt so distant now, his brand of support arrived without grand proclamations or flourishes. Rather, he served as a gentle, persistent presence which converted the energy of despair into that of hope.
And hope was terrifying. In their world, to a thing – or a person- forged by hardship and inner conflict, hope and vulnerability felt like dangerous surges often met with flashes of anger, arcs of self-doubt, and the persistent hum of loneliness. Whatever the storm, Eddie had determined to weather it alongside her, seating himself within her chosen hiding space, where the acceptance of his stubborn companionship was met with a loud, and broken sob.
Crumbling into him, her trembling hands gripped at his clothes, arms wrapping around him so that her tears could add to the patterns of raindrops donning his shirt. He returned the gesture, pulling her tightly against himself in hope that his calm would provide an anchor amidst her turmoil. She wept, and he let her. Providing space for the emotions to flow without the interruption of soft hushes, whispered promises or judgement.
Puncturing the air in gasping breaths, her sobs where raw and jagged – torn from the soul in a sound too familiar to forget;
‘Lights flickered and dimmed. An electric buzz humming ominously throughout the Breaker Box and a taut, unending pain coiled within himself. Eddie doubled over, choking out a sob which would go unheard. Energy drew from his body in pulses leaving him tired and empty. If he followed the flow of his energy, he could hear ghosts of those who drew from it. Arguments in the kitchen between the newest appliances. Voices and recorded laughter from Telly in the living room. The dancing glow of Lux’s light in unused rooms.
All the lives tapped into his life blood, the electricity which flowed through his form, converted and filtered to keep them happy. To keep them safe. He wanted to give. His entire purpose for being was to give, but for how many? And for how long? He wheezed, coughing around the tears lodged in his throat and felt the sparking sputter of agony with every fresh pulse of energy torn from his system leaving him empty, barely hanging on.
He felt trapped. Isolated within a faraday cage of circumstance and poor choices. His eyes had to blink rapidly to clear the blur, while his fingers plucked at the control panel. The fix had to be made. If he failed, he’d be worthless. Trembling in exhaustion his hand slipped, slicing across the other with the screwdriver for a fresh, new wound. It was too much. All too much. But he was the responsible one. He was the giver, the problem solver, the worker. He was strong, independent, and completely and utterly unable to ask for help. He would have to help himself.
Eddie was okay. He was always okay. …. Why couldn’t they see that he wasn’t?’
“It’s painful isn’t it,” he mused aloud to the memory, not really having expected to hear his own voice. “To crave something nobody owes you.”
Heat from the lamp filled their little space, battling the draft of an old building and the worsening battering of rain outside. Against him, tucked against his chest and beneath his chin he could feel her sobs ease into occasional sniffles and deep inhales. Without a response, but the sense she was listening, he prompted her again, offering a place to speak to be heard.
“Why did you run off like that?”
While holding no accusation his question could not be aired without some of the earlier pain inflecting his tone. Had she not always trusted him or Volt before? What was different? Had they caused it?
“I.. I didn’t want to be seen.”
And yet she had fled to one of the places they boys were most likely to check. An oversight? Did her feet really know where they were taking her, or was she numb to the thoughts that had directed her steps?
“To be seen? Or to be seen wrong?” he asked, gravely tones as soft as sand.
“I-“ Her voice hitched, eyes widening, then glazing over at some personal epiphany.
Volt had once asked him that. As Eddie recalled, his reaction had been similar. It had caught him off guard just how gentle and delicate the man could be. Loud and dazzling on a stage or at the front of house, softening into a lullaby of comforting presence whenever Eddie had felt at his weakest.
“I want to see you spark. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“It feels stupid now…”
“I’m not asking you to convince me, I already believe you hurt.”
Time stretched between them freely in contemplative silence. He waited out the hush whilst feeling her fingers thread and unthread around the wrinkles of his clothes until he felt the mark of her words being chosen when her inhale filled her, expanding the shoulders he held in his arms.
“It’s lots of things. Little things that feel inconsequential to name. Like forgotten promises or friends flaking at the last minute. And I know people have busy lives, and things come up, and minds work differently – like Barry always forgets things, I shouldn’t be surprised – but when it keeps happening, and from different sources I just start wondering what I’m doing wrong. Why am I so easy to forget or overlook. And that’s from friends, y’know? People who say they care…
So... when a non-friend is hostile or mean it’s just so much harder to be resilient. Because I think my brain has already accepted that I’m not anything more than the terrible things they say I am...”
There was something terribly human about needing to be accepted and seen. A powerful instinct hardwired into the genetic code of every individual which sparked and sputtered and caused pain through perceived failures. And Eddie knew from recent experience that reprogramming one’s perception patterns into expected conclusions was a task of long struggles and continued vigilance. He had also learned, through the one he held, that it was a task unsuited to work through alone.
“You can come to us with these things, you know?”
She nodded once, silent tears rolling down her cheek to be brushed away by the ball of her hand. There was a hesitation to the way she held herself and Eddie awaited the verdict.
“I feel bad always burdening the two of you. You already have a lot going on.”
“I don’t offer things I don’t commit to,” Eddie countered. “Volt’s pretty experienced on how to handle a tangled mess with a short fuse, and he’s really good at it. Don’t… tell him I said that.”
He paused, opening space for the wet and staggered giggle she might have at his willing expense, before moving onto the more delicate topic he wanted to bring up.
“And- if you think you feel up for it – I can talk to my therapist for you, see if he’d let you come along one day? Y’know, just so you can see what it’s all about. What the rooms are like, the signing in process, the words they use... And, maybe, see if it’s the kind of thing that’d be useful to you.”
A solidness set in her shoulders reaching down her arms and spine. Eddie’s bottom lip caught between his teeth with a swell of anxiety filling close to burst within his chest. Forcing himself to relax his grip around her he fought against the will to hold her in case she chose to run off again, and instead allowed her to pull back leaving a cold spot against his body.
Puffy, red eyes searched his own and Eddie could feel his insides squirm and writhe under the scrutiny which, so far, had an unknowable conclusion. He and Volt had talked about this a few times, and this had seemed like a natural opening to bring it up to her. To begin the process of open, ongoing conversation. But had he gotten it wrong? Was it too soon? She searched him for something all while his cheeks burned red and his mouth turned dry and sticky.
“Isn’t that.. a personal space for you?”
“Wh-what? Oh…”
This wasn’t the first therapist Eddie had ended up working with but was certainly one he’d found a connection with. Bartending had always put him in the position of an acting agony aunt and trying to reverse that roll, and with a lot less alcohol, had been a challenge that had taken time along with a lot of trial, error, and exasperated outbursts. It helped that he could now work on something during their sessions. Some broken object or busy work for his hands to pull his mind away from the anxiety of speaking.
There had been emotional breakthroughs, outbursts and conflicts. A veritable storm of experiences Eddie had needed to face and process, finding the strength of his enemy at every turn was equal to his own strength. But those battles were not often fought and won all within the confines of a session. Often, for himself at least, a session was just a space to breathe for a while. To let the pressure and stress left at the door roll off.
“No. I mean, yes, but...” he signed, reconfiguring his words to try and relay something both true and sensible. “The sessions are a lot more casual than I think people realise. I don’t just go there to cry and take an emotional beating,” he added with a chuckle to his words. “That’s, kinda what I hoped to show you. That’s it’s just… normal. A little strange at first, but it becomes normal.”
“Do you like them…? Your doctor? The sessions?”
“Not a doctor this one, just a therapist. Still very good though, and open to friendship sessions, I like him well enough. Therapy as a whole? I don’t hate it. It’s helped to rewire a few things. Create some new circuits that are a bit more efficient than the old ones.”
Her short, tight nod preluded an expanse of private thought. He watched the battle play across her features in the wrinkled furrow of her brow and the movement of her jaw setting and unsetting. Fingertips continued to fuss his shirt and her eyes cast low with the burden of decision. He watched her throat work with visible effort to form words and noted the wisps of pride he felt before any answer was aired – giving this space to think about alone was a milestone achieved.
“I’m not sure if I’m brave enough.” Her admittance carried on raw and trembling notes speaking of a wish she could be.
Eddie offered a soft smile of knowing. Tentatively he reached up on calloused finger to draw a strand of half dried hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She wasn’t running – not yet – and for him that was a display of courage and bravery unlike any other.
“You don’t need to be brave. Just open enough to try. Volt and I are happy to try along with you if you need us. Whenever you need us.”
The silence commenced, not hollow but weighted with decisions. Charged with unspoken arguments and accompanied with the howling, crackling storm which played overhead. Her hands rested loosely in his own, his thumbs brushing at their backs in slow, steady rhythms to ensure his quiet, persistent presence was known. When at last she exhaled in a long and shuddering breathe her voice carried, nearly inaudible around the storm.
“Maybe… If you’re there too. Maybe.”
Relief washed through him as a steady current, unravelling his taut shoulders and shedding some of the burden from them. Eddie nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself so as not to crowd her with promises or early cheers. But he was hopeful. This felt like a tiny, hard-won victory she might live to appreciate if they saw it through.
Intrusive and out of place in their sombre solidarity a jingle of notes sung; breaking the quiet melody of sniffling within the rumbling storm. Their bodies tensed and startled in mirrored reactions – neither having expected any interruption this deep in their feelings. Drawing out his phone at an angle which showed both of them the screen Eddie glanced at her, letting her decide where she felt in the ability to talk to more people.
Their eyes met, before she looked to the screen with unmasked guilt, then moved her finger to slide across the green phone icon. Volt’s voice crackled to life, broken by the reception in the storm.
“E--ie? Di- … find her?”
Ever animated, Volt’s voice carried the desperate worry of a man still searching and Eddie winced at the realisation that the message he’d sent upon entering the building hasn’t gone through.
“Shit, sorry. Yeah, she’s here. We’re fine.”
“Li –wir-! ,,, looked everywhe-. Are ---- alright?”
Distinct unhappiness smothered her in a chilling blanket, and her eyes moved to Eddie filled with remorse. The realisation of what she’d put the two through finally sinking in. Eddie signed offering a shrug while his free hand rose to rub the back of his own head.
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